


The King's Libation

by flammablehat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kink Meme, Lactation Kink, Married Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written awhile ago for this prompt on the kink meme: "Arthur never got to drink from his mother.  After the birth of their child, he can't help staring at Gwen's breasts, helplessly wanting but too ashamed to ask."  Unbetaed but since cleaned up a bit.  </p>
<p>Arthur and Gwen being schmoopy marrieds!  ♥ \o/ ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King's Libation

It was frowned upon to bed a woman who was with child. Arthur wasn't entirely sure why. He thought for a few long, uncomfortable weeks that if he were to lie with his wife, his prick might...intrude upon the baby’s space. Merlin had disabused him of this concern with an intensely pained look, the one he only regularly deployed upon Gwaine now, after all these years. 

So while Arthur yearned at the familiar scent of Gwen's hair or the curve of her hips, he exercised his passions in other ways, with lips and fingers. After all, it was no man's business if he _pleased_ his wife, as long as he kept his own need to himself. It was only for a few months, after all, and though Gwen protested and fought him at first, he found the liberal application of more tongue left her so boneless that she lost her obdurate attitude and let him simply hold her while his own arousal waned (or, more often, while they fell asleep with the proof of his desire still pressing firmly against her back, but that was neither here nor there). 

Regardless, Arthur found himself so fascinated with Gwen's growing belly, her happy flush, and the slow development of a becoming waddle that he hardly noticed the lack. If Leon had to discreetly nudge his attention back to council meetings and away from his wife's magnificent breasts more than usual, well. They really were magnificent. Arthur even found himself idly contemplating getting Gwen with child as often as was comfortable for her, because he could spend hours every night breathing and licking over her skin, listening to her hum pleasure at his crown, lifting his head only long enough to smile at her and let himself be kissed. 

When the baby was born he found himself checking that idle fantasy, overcome with fear in the hallway outside her chambers until Merlin tugged him into the room — despite all protestations of indecency — and belted him around the head for a priggish lout. Gwen laughed, and then she cried, and Arthur crawled into the bed behind her and held her quaking shoulders until Merlin handed them their son almost a full day later.

It was not frowned upon to lie with one's wife once a child had been born, but Arthur still held himself in restraint. At first it was because Gwen seemed happy but tired, and he still had small hands and feet and eyes to become better acquainted with, himself. They named him Thomas, for Gwen's father, which seemed to make her both terrifically happy and terribly sad at once. Arthur, for his own part, could not look at his son without feeling the most confusing torrent of joy and terror, but he knew from the moment Thomas first grabbed his finger in one small, strong little fist that there was no other name for what he felt but truest love. Gwen would watch him with a knowing heat when he carried Thomas through his first sword forms around their rooms, and Arthur, feeling oddly young and giddy and green, would return the baby to his mother's arms and retreat to the hall so that his men could clap his shoulders and ply him with congratulatory mead. 

Later, when Gwen was fully recovered and could be seen attending her duties around the castle, Arthur made excuses to trail her around. He didn't realise quite the pattern he had made for himself until the day she caught him, unaware of his sneaking, and asked him to help her adjust her shawl so she might nurse and walk at the same time. Arthur felt a sudden looseness in his knees just before his stomach dropped, but he helped her with admirably steady hands and kissed her forehead before excusing himself to his rooms. There, he stroked himself to furious, shameful completion. 

After that single, illuminating moment, Arthur simply couldn't stop looking. At night, while he read over his ledgers and scratched red marks through Merlin's piles of proposals for bloody chicken coop improvements, he found his eyes lifting to watch Gwen place the baby in his bassinet, breasts swaying full and heavy. When they went to bed and she kissed him, and made to pull him astride her, Arthur would rut at her with great care to avoid the dusky temptation of her nipples or her own attempts to pull him closer on top of her. 

"I," he said, resting his forehead on the dip of her clavicle, "I don't want to hurt you." 

"You won't. Arthur, I'm perfectly well now," she said, concern and fondness in her eyes. So he would kiss her firmly and heft her hips up in his hands, and she would laugh at him and expose her neck, eventually biting into the meat of her palm to quiet the sound of her gasping so as not to wake the baby.

The child was young and Arthur would never think of risking Thomas' health or...or his closeness to his mother by asking her to stop breast feeding him sooner than she was ready. He thought he had perhaps a year to endure, maybe a little more. He could wait, ignoring his strange desires, for as long as he had to. 

But Gwen, his sweet Gwen, seemed to be under the influence of a near constant post-pregnancy flush. While she hadn't been shy about her desires since their first evenings together (where, in fairness, he had also been rather fumbling), now she was aggressive, hungry, tugging him into narrow alcoves and riding his thigh until she whimpered into his mouth, going to her hands and knees for him at night and encouraging him to take her fast and hard like a beast with her fingers buried in his hair. 

On one such afternoon she led him into the unused servant's antechamber off of their bedroom and shoved him down onto the narrow cot, closing the door quietly behind her. 

"Thomas is sleeping," she said, grinning wide. "We have _maybe_ a half hour." 

"Oh?" Arthur said, gulping at the bounce of the cheap mattress beneath them when Gwen straddled his lap and began to tug at the laces of his trousers. 

"Help me, help me!" She laughed, their hands tangling in the layers of cloth between them. Her neck fluttered, already panting, when she seated herself on his prick, her skirts settling wide around them and obscuring from sight everything Arthur could feel. He closed his eyes, letting his head tip back against the wall. When he opened them again, Gwen had wriggled out of the bust of her dress, crushing the stiff, elaborate fabric down around her ribs to expose her shoulders and breasts. Arthur caught his breath, instantly dizzied by the sight. "I get a little messy, sometimes," she began to explain, blushing warmly, and Arthur tried to swallow an undignified choking noise before Gwen started to rock against him, already moaning sweetly. 

He held the corseted narrowness of her waist, listening desperately to her breathless gasping as she sank over his cock again and again. It was as though he was forcing the air from her lungs with every thrust, as though he was filling her so completely there was room for nothing else. And from this alone he might have found his completion, but then Gwen whined and paused, wiping at the thin wet sheen trailing down from the soft curve of her breasts toward her crumpled dress. 

"Hell," Arthur rasped, winded like he’d been punched in the gut. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gwen said, wiping hurriedly at herself, clearly embarrassed. She moved as if to get off his lap, but Arthur caught her by the waist and pulled her back down so firmly she squeaked.

"Gwen," he gasped, not knowing what to say, but _needing_ so fiercely it hurt. He leaned forward, nuzzling at her fingers, then sucked two into his mouth. The taste was sweet and delicate, and the tremulous noise Gwen made when he licked at her was the only encouragement he needed to snap the last lingering threads of his resolve.

Cautious at first, he lapped at her nipples, cleaning away the slip of fluid that had escaped her as she rode him. She held tremblingly still while he did this, the staccato of her inhales the only sign she gave of her approval until he latched his mouth around one tight brown nipple and sucked. 

Gwen shouted, going positively molten around his cock and writhing like she'd been hit by one of Merlin's currents of magic. 

Arthur pulled away, a drop of milk beading on his lip as he forced himself to ask, "Gwen?" 

"Don't, don't stop, Arthur— Arthur _don't stop_ ," she said, burying both of her hands in his hair and tugging him close. Arthur went gratefully, pressing his hands flat against the narrow planes of her back and catching her between his lips again. The spray of milk on his tongue was so soft, so warm and purely sweet it sent waves of heated satisfaction singing through Arthur's body. Gwen moaned sharply with every suckle of his mouth, which he kept light and pliant around the hard bud of her nipple. When he groaned, shifting a hand to her breast and squeezing gently, Gwen jerked in his lap, rocking her way through her first climax. 

They adjusted after that, Arthur feeling dazed and over-saturated with pleasure while Gwen nudged him where she wanted him before pulling him back to her breast. She was less vocal this time, stroking softly at his forehead and eyebrows and cheeks with her fingers until he settled into a slow, luxurious rhythm, cock buried deep and hard inside her with his mouth working intently at her tit. For all the heat this strange, illicit act fanned within him, it also felt like a balm to an old, forgotten wound — the kind of lost hurt that only flared up when the wind blew especially sharp and cold. He felt he could hold her like this forever. 

She helped to guide his free hand beneath her skirts, her nails dancing over his stomach while he tested her heat. She was sopping wet and pliant for him, taking two fingers in addition to his cock. He pinched and rubbed at the stiff little nub at the apex of her lips with his thumb, using his fingers to press hard on the fleshy area just inside her that sometimes made her gush. When he applied just the edge of his teeth to the lower curve of her breast, she keened and came again, shaking against him with the force of it. 

After that he chased his pleasure almost as if in a dream. He pushed her down onto her back and worked himself deep within her, licking and squeezing at both of her breasts until he danced on the edge of coming, rocking back and forth in short, slick, little thrusts and panting at the fragrant triangle of her sternum. 

"Come on, my love," she whispered, hoarse, and Arthur's body seized, spending in a fount so strong he felt his eyes sting, sobbing quietly into his Queen's chest.


End file.
